


A Sassenach Inside Her Mind

by ke_xia



Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-15 15:27:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4611897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ke_xia/pseuds/ke_xia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><span class="small">theliethattellsthetruth said:</span><br/>What if Claire never actually traveled through the stones - but is instead a patient in a mental institution, and her adventures in 18th century Scotland (and Jamie) are a figment of her diseased imagination?  Alternatively, some of the occurrences ARE ~real….but not so much real, as interpretations of things that are actually happening to her.  For instance, trying to get back to Frank really *is* trying to get back to Frank….only it’s an attempt to rise out of drug-induced stupors, or just past her own mental issues.  (PTSD from the war, ‘hysteria’, or whatever.)  Jamie could be purely imaginary, or he could be a hospital employee, or a visiting relative of another patient, etc, and Claire overlays her hallucinations onto him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Collecting Herbs

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collection of prompts sent in to [Imagine Claire & Jamie](http://imagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com/post/127098348327/ooh-glad-youre-open-i-love-your-stuff-so-much) on tumblr, written by Mod Eli. (That's me!) I'm posting them here for easier reading and in case there's anyone over here on AO3 who might not be on tumblr. Do feel free to check the blog out, though, and send in prompts if you have more ideas for our favorite pair!

“Claire.”

She jumped a little and blinked, focusing on the man in the white coat before her. A soft little smile pulled at her lips, and she leaned toward him slightly. “Good morning, Mr. MacTavish.”

Full lips curved downward into a frown as he studied her. She knew his name, he’d told her any number of times, yet she insisted on calling him MacTavish. He hadn’t quite figured out why just yet. Claire sat taller in her chair and ran a hand down her sides and over her thighs as if smoothing down some great mass of clothing. The skirts. The full skirts she was always talking (read: cursing) about wearing and yet, here, she simply wore trousers and a blouse.

“I’m in need of more herbs for my collection. The surgery has been really quite busy with patients. Would you mind taking me out away from the castle for a little while?” 

Her amber gaze was so bright, so hopeful. This fantasy she was living in was impossible, entirely unrealistic. Jamie couldn’t imagine where she’d come up with it. Thus far, she was the most intelligent and clever of the patients he worked with. He had a fondness for her that wasn’t technically allowed, but denying the world she lived in had a strongly adverse effect. Claire needed to work herself through whatever issues she had that had caused her to lock herself away inside that fantasy world. The war had been cruel to many. Jamie wasn’t without his own nightmares, having been a soldier himself, but clearly, she had seen something that had taken her over the edge.

Jamie offered her a soft smile and dipped his head in a nod. He stood and offered her his arm. “Aye. We’ll go out for a bit, mistress. Dinna forget yer wee basket.” She did this sometimes, went out to collect her ‘herbs.’ Granted, they had no herbs in the gardens around the institution, but the grounds were beautiful and they didn’t mind her picking some of the flowers. Claire always came back with beautiful arrangements to be placed on the tables, and the other patients loved them

She grabbed her basket, hooked it over her arm, and took Jamie’s arm. She appeared to have something she desperately wanted to say, but he knew by now that it was best to wait. She’d come out with it soon enough. The weather was nice enough for the moment, warm with the sun shining through spotty clouds. It would rain later, but he’d have her well inside before then. As they passed through the doors to the yard, Jamie nodded greeting at two other attendants who stood by watching the other patients at their business. Claire, however, shot them both a glare before tugging Jamie out into the yard a bit quicker.

“They’re always following me,” she whispered. “They think I’m a spy for the English.”

“Oh. But ye’re no’, of course.”

“Of course not!” She glanced back at the two men, then eyed Jamie before turning toward her favorite garden. “You believe me, don’t you? That I’m not a spy?”

“Aye, mistress. I ken ye’re no’ a spy. But I think-” He glanced down at her with a small frown, reached up to lay his big hand over hers on his arm. “I think there’s something ye’d like to share wi’ me, though. Ye can trust me, Claire, ken. So long as you’re wi’ me, ye’re safe; I promise ye that.” And she was. He attended her nearly every day. No one else was as gentle with her as he was. No one else seemed to care about getting her through the madness that clutched at her mind. But he did. He wanted to know the brilliant, beautiful woman that she had been before this illness had befallen her.

Claire frowned at his statement and gave a nonchalant shrug before pulling her hand from his arm and bending to her work. Jamie took her basket from her to hold it while she picked her flowers. She liked to talk as she worked, telling him about the ‘herbs’ she was picking, and their medicinal uses for various diseases. He noticed that many of the diseases she spoke of were from the 18th century, augues and inflammation, various poisons that no one would accidentally consume in this particular century. He wondered where she’d learned of them, both the diseases and herbs. He wanted to ask her, but to do so was to risk upsetting her. To risk upsetting her was to bring Dr. Randall down on her, and Jamie wished that bastard on no one, least of all these helpless patients.

He enjoyed listening to her speak, anyway. Her voice was smooth and sweet, and she crawled through the garden on her hands and knees, moving carefully to keep from crushing the other flowers. He also loved watching her work. She picked the flowers so carefully, never taking too many from any particular bush. It was fascinating to see how cognizant she was of the flowers despite the fact that she thought she was picking herbs in the forest.

Oh, Claire, he thought desperately. What is going on in your mind? Why won’t you come back to the present?

It was nearly an hour before she’d finished. Jamie continued to carry the basket for her as Claire slid her arm through his and they strolled around the grounds. The clouds had begun to roll in, though, and a chill began to settle in the air, so he ushered her back inside before the first raindrops had begun to fall.

“There’s a chill in the air, mistress. I’ll see to yer herbs and have a bath drawn for ye.”

She eyed him warily for a moment, then conceded with a small nod. “A bath would be nice, Mr. MacTavish, thank you.”

A calming bath would be good for her before lunch and the wearying day of nothingness that was to follow. The patients had to be kept inside when the weather was bad, and Claire hated being cooped up more than anyone. She’d be alright, though. There might be entertainment this afternoon. One of the older women always enjoyed playing piano for everyone. Jamie would sit next to Claire and chat with her while they listened.

Perhaps it’d be a nice afternoon, after all.


	2. The Gathering

Family Day came once a month at the asylum. The patients all got to spend time outside, wandering through the yard with their families or anyone who came to visit them. These days lifted spirits and helped to carry the patients through the rest of the month. It was good for them to have a chance to socialize with someone who was familiar to them, someone who was from the outside.

No one ever came to visit Claire.

Jamie had asked her once, whether she had any family, someone she’d like him to contact. Claire had burst into tears and had refused to speak for two days.

So instead, he kept her company. Not that it was different from any other day, but he made family day special. He took the day off every month, and when he came in, he was in his own clothes. He brought Claire a bouquet of flowers, something different each time, and the two of them spent the day together outside as much as possible.

The warden often came out to walk around, greeting families and checking on patients alike. Jamie nodded toward Colum as he escorted Claire through the gardens toward a bench in the shade beneath a large tree. He sat down with her there and they remained in companionable silence for a bit.

“Would ye like to hear about my family?” he asked suddenly.

Claire blinked and looked over at him in surprise, then smiled and nodded. “And tell me about where you grew up,” she requested, this time to his surprise.

“Oh, aye. Well. I grew up on a farm, one that’s been in my family for a few centuries now. It’s called Lallybroch.” He launched into his own story, growing up at Lallybroch. He told her about how his mother and father met and eloped together, very much against his uncles’ wishes.

Claire smiled as she listened, enjoying the story despite herself. He was a good storyteller, and the story of his parents’ love was always a good one to share. Jamie talked until he was parched, then he lay his hand warm and sure over hers.

“I’m a wee bit thirsty. I’ll just go and get us a drink, shall I?”

She nodded and he stood, headed for the table near the door that held various refreshments for the patients and their family. Jamie downed a cup of water then grabbed two more to take back to Claire. When he turned, though, she wasn’t seated on their bench anymore. He frowned and strode purposely across the yard, gaze scanning to and fro for her. He couldn’t see her. Christ, where had she gone? Jamie set the cups down on the bench then slipped behind the tree. The fence was just a few feet away. And suddenly, there, he saw her. Dark blue dress pulled up high as long, pale legs attempted to scale the fence. His gaze shot back toward the others, praying that no one had noticed her back here. Jamie knew what happened to patients who misbehaved, and by god, the last thing he wanted was for Claire to find herself strapped to a table under Dr. Randall’s direction. Everyone called him Black Jack for a reason.

“Claire!” he hissed, striding forward to wrap an arm around her waist. “Ye canna do that. There are men watching the fence from the outside. Ye’ll be caught and they’ll hurt ye, Claire.”

“No! Let me go!” she pleaded, clinging tightly to the chain link.

He reached up with his free hand and began to pry her fingers away from the the fence. “Claire, please,” he begged, panic rising in his chest. [i]Lord, dinna let anyone see us,[/i] he prayed. “They willna let ye go, Claire. Ye must stop fighting!”

“I have to get back. You don’t understand. I have to get back.” She was crying now. He could feel her warm, wet tears falling on his arm as he pulled her fingers from the fence.

“Hey- what’s going on over there?” It was one of the orderlies. Shit.

“Nothing. Dinna fash!” Jamie called over his shoulder.

But Claire was fighting him worse now and he could hear excited voices behind him. Finally, he got her away from the fence and stepped backward, keeping a hold on her as she fought his embrace.

“Jamie, please. I have to get back to him. He’s waiting for me.”

“Who, Claire? Who’s waiting for ye?”

She didn’t have time to answer, for the orderlies had arrived and a needle sank into her neck a second later. Her wriggling grew weaker until finally, she drifted to sleep in his arms. He shifted his hold on her, lifted her against his chest and cradled her there, smoothing her wild, dark hair back from her face.

“Ye let her disturb the others. Ye should ha’ called for help,” Angus growled low. “Get her inside. The doctor’ll be waitin’.”

“No. Angus, no. Let me put her to bed,” Jamie pleaded.

“It’s protocol. Colum’s seen her fightin’ ye. Ye ken we have no choice,” Angus said quietly.

Rupert stepped in, moving to take Claire from his arms. “Ye’re off today. Go home.”

“Ye ken what he’ll do to her! His own niece! Dinna give her over. His treatments willna help her. Ruper please. See reason!” He couldn’t fight them, couldn’t possibly refuse to let them take her like he wanted, or he’d lose his job. And Jamie was the only friend Claire truly had in the place. His heart was ripped from his chest as the warm weight of her body left his arms and he stood bereft, watching as Rupert and Angust walked away with the love of his life.

Taking her to Black Jack Randall.


	3. The Cruelty of Black Jack Randall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** Electroshock therapy and the after affects mentioned below.

When she woke, she was on the table. The table- oh, she’s seen it times before. She’s seen others on it. It was, after all, somewhat in the open where anyone passing by might see it. A warning, she’d always thought. A warning to be whatever they wanted you to be. But she hadn’t. She hadn’t been what they wanted her to be because she couldn’t pretend. She couldn’t pretend that she was- that she was somewhere else. She couldn’t pretend that Frank wasn’t waiting for her. She couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t looking for her, because Christ, she’s disappeared and he would search for his wife, damnit!

They had her strapped down, a strip of leather set between her teeth. She clenched her jaw and felt the little marks in the leather. Other teeth marks. Oh Christ. Oh, God, what was happening? Claire twisted her head and wriggled her arms and legs, trying to get free. They were going to hurt her. Jamie had said that, hadn’t he? But he’d promised. He’d promised that no one would hurt her if he was with her. So where was he now? Where was he? She whimpered softly and a warm, calloused hand covered her arm.

“Be still, lass. It’ll be over quick. Ye’ll feel better after.”

If she would feel better after, then why did he have that look of apology in his eye? And the other man, Angus- he couldn’t even meet her eye. She twisted her wrists in the bands that held them again and suddenly another hand touched her shoulder. This one was heavy and cold, and the face that leaned over her was familiar. Familiar. Captain Randall, she thought. Amber eyes widened with fear and she struggled more.

“Relax, Claire. We’re going to help you. This is all in your mind, your confusion. The things you’re seeing- they’re not real, Claire. I’m going to take those visions away.” He smiled down at her but it was full of malice. The man didn’t care for her a bit.

“F-Fffw-ank,” she pleaded softly around the strip in her mouth.

“Frank is gone, Claire. You know that. You will not be getting back to him, and this little fantasy world you’ve built up around yourself is not somewhere you can stay forever. I will not have it. You’ll come back to the present, and you’ll come back now. This treatment will help. It will make you forget this folly. You are in an asylum, Claire. A madhouse. You’re mad. But I am going to bring you back.” He said this last with a rather smug smile and patted her head as if she were a child.

It wasn’t true. She didn’t know what he was talking about. Frank wasn’t gone. She was the one who was gone. He was waiting for her, on the other side of the stones. And she would get back to him.

Claire’s eyes darted around the room. Jamie. _Jamie. He’ll be here. He’ll come. He’ll keep me safe. Any minute now. He’ll get me out of here, take me back to Fr-_ Something cold and damp pressed to her temples, and suddenly, all thought was gone from her mind. Her entire body seized up as electricity pricked through her brain, and the orderlies held her down as she jolted and twitched, jaw clamped down tight on the leather in her mouth.

Perhaps it should have been a relief, that empty mind. Perhaps it was meant to be, but to Claire, it felt like she was trapped. And as she was taken back to her room, laid out on her small bed and covered with her blanket, she felt like she was in a prison. All she could remember were the faces that had hovered over her and one other. One other- kind and gentle, eyes bright and full of… something that Claire couldn’t quite place. Where was he? Would he come to care for her? That was what he did, wasn’t it? He was her protector, yes. He would come.

She closed her eyes, clinging to that thought.

\--

He had planned to leave. He had tried to leave. Jamie had marched straight out to his car, climbed in, and turned the engine on. But then he sat there. He sat there, brokenly thinking about what Randall was doing to Claire, and he knew he couldn’t go. She’d be afraid, after. She’d be lost and alone, and he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her in that cold room to recover by herself. So at last, Jamie got back out of his car and headed into the asylum once more. It didn’t matter that he was off duty. The staff would let him in, and they wouldn’t say a word when he went to see Claire.

He walked quietly through the halls. The families were gone by now; the patients, having been fed, were now settled in their rooms. At last, he found Claire’s room and slipped inside, pausing there to look over her for a moment. She was sleeping, he thought, eyes closed and a wrinkle in her brow that made him think she was perhaps in pain. “Claire?” he called out softly, moving forward slowly so she wouldn’t be startled.

Her eyes opened at her name, and for a moment, she stared at him with a blankness that terrified him. He moved to the side of her bed and squatted down next to her, reaching out to take her hand between his own. It was so cold, and he rubbed at it in an attempt to warm it up. “Claire, it’s me, Jamie.”

At that, her eyes focused a little more and she blinked, recognition flickering in those whisky depths. Jamie released a soft sigh of relief.

“I knew you’d come,” she whispered.

His throat clenched tight at that. God, he’d almost left. He’d almost gone home and left her here all alone. And she’d been waiting for him. “Aye,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “Aye, I came. I couldna leave ye here alone.”

Wordlessly, Claire shifted on the bed, scooting back until she was up against the cold wall. then she pulled her hand from his grasp to fold the blanket down. They’d never done this before. Jamie wasn’t sure what made her think of it, but he didn’t hesitate to slip his shoes off and climb up next to her on the tiny bed. It was bumpy; he could feel the springs poking at him, and he was disgusted that the patients had to sleep on these. How desperately he wanted to gather Claire into his arms and simply take her out of this place, take her away, back to Lallybroch where she could heal properly and no one would hurt her.

She draped the thin blankets over him and pressed in close, and Jamie was quick to wrap his arms around her. She was trembling, and his heart broke all over again. “Shh, it’s all right. Ye’re all right now,” he murmured, stroking her hair.

“I want to go home, Jamie,” she whispered tremulously.

“I ken ye do. Soon, Claire. Soon ye’ll feel better and ye’ll be able to go home.” She cried softly against him and he held her all the more tightly.

Eventually, Claire drifted off to sleep with her head on Jamie’s chest. His shirt was damp with her tears, but he didn’t mind. His hold on her never loosened, and he liked to think the way she slept peacefully through the night was because of that. Because of him. She had wanted him there, had needed him to hold her, and he would gladly never let go. Jamie continued to murmur to her, speaking the Gaelic that was still taught to the children of his family, passed down through the generations whether it had grown out of style or not. He prayed softly that she would get better, that she would find a way back to herself, to this time, and that she would heal as she needed.

“I have to go back,” Claire whispered suddenly.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon and, while he’d dozed a little, Jamie hadn’t gotten much rest. He hadn’t realized Claire was awake, for she hadn’t moved once all night and he’d barely noticed a change in her soft breathing against him. He opened his own eyes and looked down at her, rubbing her back gently.

“Back where? Ye ken ye canna leave this place, as much as I would like to help ye get free.”

She lifted her head then, tears glistening in her eyes once more. “I came through the stones. I somehow… fell through time, Jamie. But my husband, he’s waiting for me in 1945. I must get back to him.”

“Oh, aye? The stones?” So the therapy hadn’t taken the story from her mind, after all. Heh, well, it rarely did. This was only the first time they’d used it on her, but Jamie didn’t doubt the damage Dr. Randall could do with even one session on that table.

“The circle- Craigh na Dun? Could you take me there? If I can get back through the stones, then- then Black Jack can’t come after me. I’ll be safe, once I get back through.”

He was astonished to hear her story in full now. What an incredible world she had made up in her mind. How terrible and sad that she had had to find this way to protect herself. The year was 1946 now. Claire had been in the asylum for some months. And yet- she’d formed this story in her mind before she’d ever come to be here. Jamie searched her face, his free hand coming up to cup her soft cheek, and he gently pushed her wild brown curls back, tucked them behind her ear. She wanted to get back to her husband. Right. Well, if there was a husband somewhere, he would find the man. She shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be alone. She needed someone who loved her taking care of her, and clearly he wasn’t enough himself, now matter how much he loved her.

“Let me think on it, aye? I’ll try to get ye back to him, Claire. Ye must be patient.”

She smiled, glittering eyes full of hope, and nodded quickly. “I will. Thank you, Jamie. Oh, thank you!”

Jamie leaned in and pressed a kiss to Claire’s forehead. “I’d best go change for work. I’ll be back wi’ breakfast for ye. Just rest a bit more,” he said, reluctantly peeling himself away from her. He stepped into his shoes and slipped out the door, bound for the locker room while thinking just how the hell he was going to get a look at Claire’s files so he could contact her husband. He’d find a way. He glanced back at her door, then closed his eyes, inhaling deeply in an attempt to rid himself of the ache in his chest.

He’d find a way. For her.


End file.
